While the World Slowly Burns
by Fantasma Amico
Summary: In 2014, the apocalypse is in full blast. Our chances are slim, and our only hopes are a hunter, a fallen angel, a history teacher and a vampire. At this point things must be bound to go downhill fast. Destiel. Dalaric. Love Square.


Perhaps we should start with the beginning. That is, after all, where most everyone starts. What could be classified as the beginning, well that's up to you, as in this way it could go very far back. As far back as human creation, up into Heaven and down into Hell. The beginning could be within wings and within hellfire, within angels and demons, within God and the Devil. That's because this is the beginning of everything, and this story is everything. The whole existence of the world, of the entire human race, that's the preamble to this story.

This is how the apocalypse reached it's rumble, and this is how the world ended.

The Croatoan virus spread rapidly, a pestilence-coated wildfire that engulfed the world. It hit specific areas first, the ones with the most supernatural activity. Mostly this was big cities, Chicago, Tokyo, London, Las Vegas. The bigger the place the easier it is for monsters to pretend, because in such a vast area the people are pretending too. The cities, they were gone within days, within weeks. They went out with not a bang, but a whimper.

Then, there were the smaller cities, the ones that due to traumatic happenings just have this intoxicating pull to take in evil, and they were hit as well. These were the ones with more survivors, the ones that were used to the bullshit in their lives and knew how to put up a fight against things inhuman. Still, even with their preparations, most of them didn't last more than a few weeks either.

That started six months ago, and Mystic Falls had been one of those small towns. Alaric Saltzman, so far as he knew, was one of the very few to make it out alive and as for the others who did, he had no clue who the fuck they were. Every person he cared about there was now dead or had disappeared off of the face of the Earth, which these days pretty much guaranteed the former was true for them too. Luckily, or unfortunately, which it was he was still not sure, he had enough experience with vampires among other things to hold his own. Croats were easier to kill, you just had to blow their brains out instead of having good aim with a stake. He wasn't sure just what his goal was in killing them, he wasn't sure what his point of survival was, but he figured as long as he saved a few people along the way, he had a purpose.

Saving people, that's what he'd been trying to do at this time, and things had simply gotten much more complicated. Now he was stuck in what could have some past day had been called a building, though now it was a pile of bricks that were barely holding their foundation, and he felt lucky they were collapsing on him. There were a group of Croats that had been close by before, and he was hoping he would go unnoticed. The ones he could kill he did, but he was only one person, taking on a group of zombie-esque former people wasn't something he could easily do.

The distant noise of gunshots rang off and Alaric started to ease off his own, assuming the sound would attract attention away from where he was hiding. However the sound got closer, and the guttural sounds of diseased last breaths and splattering brains was more audible around him. The thought passed his mind that perhaps he should help whomever it was, but if he walked out of nowhere, they could easily think he was sick and shoot his head off. Still, he started to slowly to move out of the ruins of the building, being as careful as possible. His caution gave him no form of help, because as soon as he took a few steps he found himself slammed into one of the brick walls, which shook a bit but did not fall.

A silky voice filled with a familar and generalized desdain rang out, though Alaric was too busy watching the top of the building shaking to look at him, "Are you disgusting things learning to hide now? I thought maybe your brains were rotting too mu- ..._Ric?" _

The other man took a step back from him and recognition came to Alaric's face, and he took a step closer in return. "Damon?"

Damon stared at him for a moment with big blue eyes that were trying to figure just how he was supposed to react. Hesitantly he pulled up the gun in his hand, pointing it. "You're one of those things, aren't you? You're just...a smarter one or something...because nobody got out of Mystic Falls. _Nobody. _...Except for me."

Trying to move out of the path of the gun, Alaric tried to move to the right without the vampire noticing. "That's what I thought too. I'm not one of...whatever they are. I'm just me." The expression of disbelief on the other man's face went unchanging. "_Damon, _if I was one of them, I could've killed you already. Since I'm not trying to kill you, how about you don't try to kill me, okay? The third time isn't a charm."

He considered for a moment, staring at the ground, before slowly lowering the gun. "...Why are you here?"

Alaric shrugged, "Just trying to help out, I guess, or maybe I have a death wish." He laughed despite himself before stopping abruptly and narrowing his eyes at Damon. It's not like he was the type to risk himself for the greater good, unless he got some advantage out of it. "Why are _you _here?"

Looking down, Damon kicked a fragment of a brick that had fallen off of the house ages ago. "I don't know, I guess the same reason."

"Yeah, because obviously I'll believe _that_. You always want something, so what is it?" He was almost surprised by his own bluntness, and based on the look he got from Damon in return he was surprised by it as well. When everything was going to Hell, it just wasn't the time for secrets.

Damon glared daggers at him, crossing his arms. "I'm hunting for rabbits." His tone was sharp and sarcastic, and Alaric didn't care for it at all, shooting him a look in return that signaled that wasn't the time or place to be a jackass. The vampire rolled his eyes, uncrossing his arms. "I'm looking for Stefan."

"Stefan?" Alaric changed from serious to confused, watching Damon closely. "Stefan was with Elena. I thought you said nobody else made it out of Mystic Falls."

"Well they didn't, at least not without getting infected first," He glanced around at everything that wasn't Alaric as he spoke. "After Elena got infected, diseased bitch bit him too. He must have gotten out of there because I didn't see a body. Caroline was nasty enough infected, Stefan at his worst plus whatever the hell is in him...that's a toxic combination for whatever crosses his path. So I need to find him. If anyone is going to put him out of that misery, I think it should be me."

He sighed, finally looking at Alaric. "So if your interrogation is done, I'm just going to go back on my merry, little trail now, okay?"

He turned on his heel and pulled his gun back out, holding it to him as he walked. Unthinkingly, Alaric started to follow him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Damon didn't stop walking as he asked the question, nor did he look back.

Alaric caught up to pace with him, shrugging once more. "I'm going with you. It's not like I'm very productive on my own. I'm supposed to look out for my friend anyway, aren't I?"

He snorted in response, looking in the opposite direction. "We aren't friends, Ric."

"Aren't we?"

With that Damon stopped, an unreadable expression on his face. "_No. _If I remember right, the last time we talked to each other before now, you said you hate me. So no, we aren't friends." Then he started again, gaining pace this time. "But follow me if you want, I really could care less. If you get killed it's not my fault."

Alaric watched him for a moment, took in a heavy sigh, and continued following him nonetheless.

-x-

Dean Winchester walked through what used to be the city of Richmond, Virginia, recording mentally the amount of bodies on the ground, ones he had surprisingly not put there himself. There must have been other surviviours in the area, because none of these kills were from any of his people they were too precise and looked like each kill had been carefully appreciated, rather than just done in random fire for survival. No, whomever had done this, it wasn't just kill or be killed, it was genuine enjoyment.

"Dean." A petite woman with blonde hair and chocolate eyes, with a large shotgun in her hand was standing there, looking troubled. "We may have another problem on our hands."

"What?" The woman gestured to him a body on the ground and he moved over to it, noticing immediately what the problem was. This body wasn't like the others, it wasn't already sick, bloody and broken. It was a small young redhead who had to be no older than twenty-five, surprisingly clean other than the dirt on her clothes. Croats didn't kill cleanly, and this girl's manner of death was very apparent- two small puncture wounds on the side of her neck. Dean looked away from the girl, with no clear reaction to the sight. His voice as he spoke sounded tired and indifferent. "Great, vampires, that was just what I needed on top of my apocalypse."


End file.
